CHAPTER XVII
WITNESSES THE DEPARTURE OF THE FOUR ON A CANOE TRIP AND BRINGS THEMINTO CAMP FOR THE NIGHT
Half the inhabitants of the camp saw them off and, being envious,professed to be glad they were not going themselves.
“Look out for bears, Tommy,” counseled Joe Carter. “You’d make a nicefat breakfast for them.”
Joe had very willingly contributed his canoe to the expedition, but hewould have liked mightily to go along.
Finally the last of the things were stowed away in the two canoes andthe paddles were dipped.
“Be very careful,” said Mr. Clinton, “and take good care of yourselves.Good-by.”
“Good-by!” yelled the crowd on the landing, and----
“Good-by, sir,” called the Four. “Good-by, fellows!”
In the excitement of the moment the “Babe” fell off the pier, andduring the subsequent hilarity the two canoes sped out into the lake.In one sat Nelson and Dan, in the other Bob and Tom. They were tochange about when they reached Northwest Bay. As they swung around thecorner of Bear Island a number of the Wickasaw fellows were on thepier. From the flagpole hung the objectionable white banner.
“Take it down,” shouted Dan. “It’s out of date!”
“Come and get it,” answered one of the assembly.
“Oh, we haven’t got time,” said Nelson.
“One’s enough for us,” added Tom.
Whereupon they were subjected to a chorus of angry jeers and hoots.That raised their spirits still higher and they shot under the bridgeat Crescent as happy a quartet as ever paddled their own--or any oneelse’s--canoe. There was very little wind and what there was favoredtheir progress. Little of interest happened during the voyage to thehead of Hipp’s Pond. By that time they were all glad to lay down thepaddles and stretch tired arms and legs. From the pond across tothe bay was a matter of two miles over a well-traveled trail. Aftera few minutes of rest the outfit was apportioned and they set out.Dan carried one canoe and Bob the other, and Nelson and Tom sharedthe luggage. A seventy-pound canoe weighs one hundred pounds at thebeginning of the carry, two hundred at the end of the first half mile,and something like a ton at the end of the mile. After that it gainsfour tons every three hundred yards. That’s one reason it took theparty just short of an hour and a half to cover that two miles. Theychanged burdens frequently, but, even so, when Nelson suggested thatthey return all the way by water and train, cutting out the presentfeature of the trip, they were unanimous in favor of the suggestion.
“I never knew a canoe weighed so much,” grunted Dan, stumbling over alog. “I’ll bet the Chicora isn’t half so heavy as this pesky thing!”
“Wish we’d brought only one of them,” said Tom, who was struggling withthe other. “Don’t see what we needed two for. You fellows wouldn’t letme bring things that were really necessary, but you had to saddle uswith a canoe that isn’t needed at all.”
“Dry up, Tommy,” said Nelson. “You’re doing finely, if only you’d liftyour feet now and then. Talking about unnecessary things, now, I don’tsee what you have two feet for; one of them is big enough for anyordinary person. Look out there! I told you so!”
Thereupon burdens were set down, not unwillingly, while the canoe waslifted off of the prostrate form of Tom and balanced over his shouldersagain.
“Well, we’re almost there,” said Bob encouragingly. “And this is thelast time we’ll have to lug things.”
“Almost there!” grumbled Tom. “You’ve been saying that ever since westarted. Don’t believe there is any ‘there’!”
But there was, and presently it came into sight, a narrow strip of bluewater just barely ruffled in the breeze. When they reached the bankthey laid aside their loads and stretched themselves out gratefully inthe shade.
“Hooray!” murmured Dan.
“Me too,” sighed Tom.
Bob, who appeared the least fatigued of the party, got out the tincup and served drinking water and was called blessed. Nelson took thecamera from the case and snapped it several times at the recumbentforms. Then the canoes were slipped into the water and the luggagearranged again. This time Nelson and Bob paddled together, and Dan andTom. As they started away Tom waved his arm politely toward the trailthrough which they had journeyed.
“Good morning, Carry,” he called.
And Dan was heard threatening that if he ever said anything like thatagain he would be tipped out of the canoe.
“And this time,” added Dan, “I won’t jump in and rescue you!”
Noon saw them opposite Beacon Point, and heading across the water theyfound a comfortable spot and drew the canoes up on to a tiny sandybeach. They had provided themselves with a cold lunch for the firstmeal and they ate it lying around on their elbows or stretched flaton their backs in the shade of a big white birch which fluttered itsleaves above their faces. The lunch was principally sandwiches andgingerbread and apples, but it tasted better than any meal they hadeaten for a long time, and Tom begged to be allowed to attack the othersupplies after his share of the feast had vanished. He was heartlesslydenied and presently fell asleep, where he lay and snored beautifullyin four distinct keys for half an hour. Perhaps the others slept alittle as well. The sun was delightfully warm and life held no cares.
By one o’clock they were on their way again. Camps and theirattendant landings, with here and there a hotel or boarding-house,became frequent along the shores, while in the distance launches andsteam-boats shone like white specks against the blue water. Now andthen a canoe or sailboat passed them with its merry party.
“Seems to me,” said Dan, who was paddling at bow in Bob’s canoe, “thatfolks down here don’t have anything to do but float around on thewater. It’s a sick way to spend vacation.”
“What ought they to do?” asked Bob carelessly.
“Anything so as not to be so plumb lazy. Look, there’s a swell campover there, Bob.”
“And that’s a dandy on the little island over there. Hey, Nelson, how’dyou like to have to live there all summer?”
“I wouldn’t kick. That’s swell, isn’t it? There are some mighty fineplaces along here. It’s prettier than Chicora in that way.”
“Yes, but you’d soon get tired of having so many camps around you; it’stoo crowded. What’s the point over there, I wonder.” And Bob pulled hismap out for the fortieth time. “Shingle Point,” he announced. “Now, whythe dickens do they call it that? It doesn’t look like a shingle, itdoesn’t feel like a shingle, and it doesn’t smell like a shingle.”
“You’re a silly chump, Bob,” said Dan. “It’s called Shingle Pointbecause it scratches like a shingle, of course.”
“How does a shingle scratch?” asked Nelson.
“With its nails,” chuckled Dan.
“Splash him for me, please,” Nelson begged, and Bob obligingly obeyed,sending a fine shower against Dan’s back.
“I suppose that’s Clapboard Island there off Shingle Point?” asked Tom.
“And that’s Shutter Cove yonder,” said Dan.
“Well, that looks like a boarding-house on the hill,” added Nelson.
“Maybe we could get a planked steak there,” Bob suggested.
“Oh, this is awful,” laughed Nelson. “Come on, Tommy, let’s get out ofthis atmosphere.” And they bent to their paddles in an endeavor to drawaway from the other craft. But Bob and Dan were ready for a race andthey had it out for a quarter of a mile, nip and tuck, Tom, who had yetto acquire skill at paddling, throwing water over himself and whoevercame within six yards of him, but nevertheless managing to keep his endup. When they called the contest off, both parties claiming victory,they had reached a point where it was necessary to choose their course.Before them the island which Tom had dubbed Clapboard barred theirdirect path and it became a question of going to right or left. Bobconsulted the map once more.
“It doesn’t make much difference,” he said. “The right is a bit neareraccording to this.”
“Right it
is, then,” answered Dan.
“Let’s quit for a while,” said Tom. “My arms are lamer than thunder.”
“All right, Tommy.” So they laid aside their paddles, scooped the waterup in their hands and drank, and then disposed themselves comfortablyin the canoes.
“Is the tide going in or out?” asked Nelson absent-mindedly. Then hewondered why the others laughed at him until he recollected that he wasnot on salt water. Bob brought his canoe alongside the other and heldit there while they bobbed lazily about in the afternoon sunlight.
“Who knows where the fishing-tackle is?” asked Tom.
“I do,” Dan answered, “but we haven’t any bait.”
“I’ll go ashore and dig some. We ought to have some fish for supper.”
“I’ll eat myself all the fish you’ll catch, Tommy,” said Bob. “But goahead and get your bait. How many lines are there?”
“Two,” said Tom. “You take the other and I bet I’ll catch more’n youdo.”
“All right, Izaak Walton. Run away and get your bait. But it’sdollars to doughnuts you won’t find anything but earthworms, and noself-respecting fish will bite at those.”
“A chub will take anything,” said Dan.
“Yes, but we won’t take the chub,” answered Nelson. “I’ll go hungrybefore I’ll eat those things.”
“Chub are all right,” said Dan. “You ask Tommy; he knows all aboutchub, don’t you, Tommy?”
But Tommy, searching for the hatchet, made no response. Armed withthis weapon in lieu of a spade he paddled in to the shore, Nelson, onhis back with one foot over each gunwale, taking slight interest inthe proceedings. Tom disappeared into the woods and was presently backagain with a varied collection of worms and bugs gathered from rottenlogs and from the earth. They returned to the other canoe, and he andBob made ready their lines.
“I’d like to know what sort of beasts these are,” said Bob disgustedly.“I’m afraid to touch some of them. Here, I’ll use the earthworms andleave these fancy things to you; and I hope they bite you. There, heregoes for a whale.”
He threw his line out, and Tom followed a moment later with his. Thenthey waited while Dan and Nelson sarcastically made bets on the result.After five minutes without a nibble Bob grew restive.
“Any one know whether there are any fish in this lake?” he asked.
“All fished out, I guess,” said Dan. But at that moment Tom gave asuppressed whoop of excitement and began to let out his line.
“Play him, Tommy,” said Nelson lazily. “It’s probably a codfish.”
“Fu-fu-fu-feels like a wh-wh-whale!” answered Tom.
“Now don’t get excited,” advised Dan. “Give him his head for a while.Maybe it’s a sunfish.”
But Tom was really having all he could attend to, for whatever was onthe end of his line was making the gamest sort of a fight. Tom had tolet out several yards of line, for he was none too sure of his leader.Then he began to take it in again a little at a time until the fish,which seemed to have given up the struggle, was not six feet away. Theyall peered wonderingly into the water, but it was too rough to allowthe fish to be seen.
“I’m going to pull him in,” said Tom in a hoarse whisper. “You fellowssu-su-stand by to gu-gu-grab him!” Then he pulled in hand over hand,there was a thrashing a yard away and a momentary glimpse of a bigsilvery body that turned and twisted. Then Tom sat down suddenly in thecanoe, sending it down to the gunwale and shipping several quarts ofwater, while the end of the line, minus leader and hook, flew over hishead.
“_Gosh!_” exclaimed Tom, picking himself up and looking disgustedlyinto the water.
“Say, he was a peach!” said Dan. “What do you suppose he was?”
“Trout,” said Bob.
“Salmon,” said Nelson.
“He was the biggest I ever saw in fresh water, anyway,” Dan declared.Tom was feverishly fitting a new leader and baiting his hook.
“Maybe he’ll be back,” he whispered excitedly.
“Not he,” said Bob. “He’s scared to death. I’ll bet he’s half a mileaway by this time. Hello!” He had drawn in his own line, forgotten inthe excitement, and found the hook empty. “I got a bite at last.”
“So did the fish,” laughed Nelson.
Tom’s “whale” didn’t put in any appearance, but at the end of half anhour or so he had four fair-sized bass and two chub to his credit,while Bob had only one small perch to show.
“You win, Tommy,” he said, winding up his line. “The old farm is yours,to say nothing of the wood-lot on the hill. Now let’s get along. It’safter four and we ought to get to Morris Island by five.”
So they took to the paddles again and glided on through the channelthat divided the island from the mainland. At the end of the islandthey met one of the steamers, her deck well filled with passengers whowaved and shouted to them as they swept past. There was lots to seenow, for they were well inshore and the houses and cabins were thickthereabouts. At the end of an hour their camp-site was in view. MorrisIsland lay well out in the lake and was one of the largest there. Afew camps were scattered over it, but there was plenty of room for anight’s lodging. They crept along the shore until they found a littlecove with a gravelly beach. Here they disembarked, stretched theirlimbs, and set about making camp.
The canoes were emptied, carried up under the trees, and laid bottomside up for the night. Tom went off after firewood, and the othersunpacked the cooking things and set up the tents. Bob, who had hadexperience in camping, took command. The blankets were distributed,water was brought, and a big log was rolled down to the edge of thebeach. Tom came back with his first armful of wood, and Bob set aboutthe building of the fire. With some small stones dug from the beachhe built a fireplace, the back wall of which was the tree trunk.Between the side walls he dug out the gravel for a depth of six inches,continuing the excavations for a foot or so in front. Then with abroad, flat stone he made a hearth, fixing it in such a way that therewas a draft from front to back. On the flat stone he threw some driedgrass and twigs and lighted them. Then Tom’s supply was drawn uponand in a moment there was a roaring fire. With the hatchet Bob cut astout branch, sharpened one end, and thrust it into the earth so thatit leaned over the fireplace. From this, just above the flames, hedepended the water-kettle. The cooking utensils and the provisions werespread out and Nelson and Dan were set to cleaning the fish. The breadwas cut--Tom managing to gash his finger in the operation--the coffeemade, and the potatoes were washed and plumped into the boiling water.Meanwhile the skillet was leaning against the fireplace getting hot.
Dan and Tom and Nelson sat down and watched, jumping up now and then todo Bob’s bidding, but for the most part cultivating their appetites byobserving the preparation of supper. Bob seemed to know just what to doand how to do it. By the time the potatoes were almost done the fishwere frying in the skillet and the coffee-pot was singing a tune of itsown.
Then plates were passed around and in a moment there was a deep andeloquent silence that lasted until Tommy, with a sigh, laid down hisplate and reached for the frying-pan. “Work,” quoth Tom, “makes afellow hungry.”
“Work!” answered Nelson scathingly.
“Work!” grunted Dan.
“Work!” laughed Bob.
“Huh!” Tom retaliated. “Who caught these fish?”
“Well, even if you did catch them you needn’t eat them all,” said Dan,wresting the skillet from his hands. “There are others, my boy. Pour mesome more coffee, Bob, will you?”
While they ate, with the smoke from the dying fire floating straightinto the air and the last rays of the sun tinging the lake withrose-gold, the steamer from The Weirs passed a little way out, hercabin windows alight and her lanterns flashing red and green and whiteacross the mirror-like surface. Bob waved the coffee-pot, incidentallysplashing Tom’s face with the contents, and a group at the stern ofthe boat fluttered their handkerchiefs. Then the dishes were washed atthe edge of the lake and the fire replenished. Aft
er that they tooka stroll along the shore, pausing now and then to shy pebbles at themuskrats which, with little bullet-shaped heads just above the water,swam hither and thither, leaving long ripples behind them. Back tocamp they wandered just at dark and sat for a while in the light ofthe little fire, and then they rolled themselves in their blankets anddropped off to sleep one by one, Tom’s unmusical snores alone breakingthe silence. And so ended the first day of the trip; not an excitingone, to be sure, but one of the happiest of the summer.
Four in Camp: A Story of Summer Adventures in the New Hampshire Woods Page 19